


For Eothas

by cantor



Series: The Daughter of the Sun [1]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-27 14:47:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19015069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cantor/pseuds/cantor
Summary: Two Eothasians share one burden.





	For Eothas

“So. Severin.”

 

When Edér addresses the Watcher, he swallows the second ‘e’, so it ends up sounding like ‘Sev’rin’, and more often than not, even that is reduced to nothing more than ‘hey Sev’. He almost never calls her Watcher — too formal for his tastes, and besides, the ‘title’ reminds him of the terrible burden behind it. Sometimes, it feels like Edér is more distressed with it and its implications than the bearer of the curse, the afflicted herself. It took some getting used to, and he still wasn’t fully sure he grew accustomed to the woman in a peculiar hat who never went to sleep — but at least he didn’t feel the nauseating sense of distress by just hanging around.

 _T_ _he_ _s_ _e foreigners are weird_ , he’d say to himself grumpily. Severin’s just one example of many. To think, she marches through Gilded Vale, with holy symbols of Eothas embroidered on her clothing, her vestments are unlike any he has seen; and she’s so blissfully and utterly unaware she was walking into the a wasp’s nest! He’d wanted to say something on the lines of “Lady You Don’t Want To Be Strolling Around Here Dressed Like That”, seeing her as simply extravagant and a little bit crazy. After all, where else, if not Gilded Vale, are all sorts of madmen usually drawn to, like flies to fresh dung? Then, he started suspecting that she was, after all, crazy in a literal sense – seeing how the whites of her eyes absorbed everything in their cavities, and how she muttered something under her nose, like a prayer directed nowhere. Nevertheless, he came to find her company more than preferable to the suffocating weight of knowledge that he was going to be hanged sooner rather than later if he stayed in Gilded Vale.

 

The old Magranite spits on the ground at the sight of two Eothasians, turns on his heel and leaves the campsite to take a walk in the nearby woods. They exchange playful looks; it is a local past-time to annoy the angry brooding priest.

“Yes?” she says finally, swallowing a chuckle.

“How come you never told us how you came to worship Eothas?” Edér says His name intentionally loudly, “You know how _I_ did, growing up in Gilded Vale with my parents who were Eothasians too. Something tells me though, you have a different story.”

“You found _Him_ ,” Severin says, adjusting the topped cone of her hat from under which the short curls streamed wildly, “He, on the other hand, found _me_. It’s a long and shameful story, really.”

“Do tell,” he said, “I’m in a mood to listen.”

“They worship Rymrgand where I was born,” Severin begins, “Eothas isn’t held in high regard there. But when I was a kid, I dreamt of bearing his touch. The touch of the sun. It was more out of spite than out of belief.” She reprimands herself harshly. “I suppose it was my way of dealing with the fact that both my parents were dark-haired and I was born a blonde redhead. I was hoping that He had accidentally touched me with his finger and some small part of Him remained with me. Later, the village boys told me I was redheaded because my mother had slept with a passing adventurer. Everyone seemed to know that, except for me.”

“I’m sorry,” Edér says, suppressing a quip which is hopelessly stuck in his throat.

“Don’t be. I was but a child, I idolized my mother. No amount of hurtful words was enough to change that. She taught me to sew,” Severin continues lovingly, her voice heavy with foreign accent as she rolls hard Rs, “to fish and to skin a seal. Anyway, most kith in the village were glamfellen. I didn’t like them, and I don’t know why to this day. When I was almost a woman grown, I grew obsessed with an idea to run away. One day, a group of adventurers came through, looking for a priest. They were Readceran, I think? I didn’t know back then, it hardly mattered to me. So I quickly fashioned a robe and a hat so I would have an attire worthy of a follower of Eothas who I was going to impersonate. I knew how to make healing salves and potions, which my mother taught me again, so I thought I was ready. The adventurers took my strange robes for an eccentricity, after all, I was quite young… And they took me with them for an expedition further into the White. What they were going to find there, I don’t know, but they seemed like deeply religious people in searching for something spiritual.

“One day, after a week of wandering, we were caught in a blizzard and had to stop. It raged for days and days and finally they asked me to pray. I had books with me, of course, books I’d stolen from a local library, but I had no idea how to pray, so I stared silently at the sky and whispered something ambiguous under my nose. They weren’t very happy about this, but soon they joined in, and then... we saw northern lights so bright it hurt our eyes and I can swear it became warmer. The blizzard stopped almost immediately and we rejoiced. I still have no idea what drew Him to us... to me, an impostor who didn't even believe... But He came when I didn't even dare hope He would. The morning comes however long the night. Those were the words that clung to me most. I contemplated them as we headed back. It looked like they found what they were searching for. As for me...

“Needless to say, I said my goodbyes and left the White with them. I was already enamored with my new faith. I spent several years in Readceras, alone and reclusive, frolicking in the forests and woods like a frilly elven maiden, not communicating with anyone but my God… and then He stopped listening. I remember the moment well. He simply was not there when I tried to reach... And so I packed and headed south and you know the rest pretty well. I knew something was wrong, and I needed to know what.”

“Wow,” Edér exhales, “this is one hel of a story.”

“Do you still pray to Him?” she asks suddenly.

“Sometimes,” he says with a sullen sigh, “but it’s more like I’m asking questions I don’t want to know answers for.”

“Does He answer?”

“No.”

“Do you think He ever will?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“I want to believe He will.”

 

They spend the rest of the evening in silence.


End file.
